peach: Nope, no significance. :)
Saber Girls: Nope. - points at name - Tyl Olos. xD
GreatOne: - giggles - Olos has no relation to Solo. The man isn't Han. He's TYL. And Chewie didn't leave him. Because its not Han. ( Sorry if I'm a bit repetitive. xD ) And forty-five isn't old! Trust me. I was merely pointing out that he's older. He actually is older than forty-five, but... I promised myself not to say anything about the story.
yellow-lily: Thank you. I don't know how I thought of it, but I liked that too. :D
Smartstar247: Thanks. And nope, not Han Solo. He died. - points to chapter two -
Caiden McBrien: - huff - I hate you all. XDD No, just kidding. I don't. I love you. You reviewed me. Anyhow, no, for the last time, he's not Han Solo. Tyl Olos.
Dovasary: He's not! - wrings hair - The Olos/Solo thing is coincidence. Seriously. I thought of it after STAR testing. And Solo wasn't the original word. It was actually solar, but I twisted it around and took out and added words. xD Thats how I come up with most of my names.
KnitedRogue: xDDDD Too bad I can't say anything in regards to that first paragraph that I haven't said... - counts - six times. :D And thank you about the voice. This is new to me, so I still may slip some past-tense words in there because thats how I always have written. I'm getting better at putting "says" instead of "said", though.
The Real Leia: Nope. He's not. :-D

Author's Note: This chapter is pretty long, and I'm glad, thats why it took me three or so nights to write. But I like it, so yeah. And I admit: Olos is like Han --- - pauses, rewinds - Olos is LIKE Han, bu-ut he's different. Note the names.

CHAPTER SIX

"Where're we going anyway?"

This sentence jerked me from my thoughts, and I look up at Tyl's face full of practicality and absolutely zero curiosity. Crap. In my escape I surely hadn't thought anything out.

"Erm..."

"You're telling me you don't know? How stupid are you?"

I glare at him.

"Listen, you moron, of course I thought about it, but I'm having trouble deciding between two." I lie quickly.

"Is there anyway you can tell me which two?"

"So I can have the honor of your input?"

Tyl scowls at me before turning his gaze back to the window. "No, prissy, so I have a general idea which direction I'm goin'."

I return his look, even though I knew he was right. I had hoped for an ensuing argument in which I would have some time to think of two systems that seemed plausible for me to want to see. But Tyl kept giving me expectant glances, so I simply blurt out two planets I already know a lot about.

"Tatooine and Endor."

Tyl snorts, then coughs, then laughs, sending me an amused look that clearly tells me he genuinely believes this to be a joke. As he catches my expression, although, his own turns to bewilderment.

"What in the blazes do you want on a giant rock and a moss-covered moon?"

"For your information - as if you care - " Another snort confirmed this. " - Both Tatooine and the forest moon of Endor have a large significance to the history of the Rebellion - "

"Of course I know that - but I'm taking you somewhere for a history project?"

I could feel myself flush and, at the same time, start to anger. "No! For purposes to do wtih real interest and curiosity - "

"So you can get shot by sand people and kidnapped by teddy bears with pointy sticks? That's it. I'm charging another three thousand."

"Actually, their names are Tusken Raiders and Ewoks - but you don't seem have the brain capacity to remember that - " I had started before I heard him upping the price. "Of course you can't!" I shout, furious and worried at the same time. "We already agreed on the price!"

"So?"

"So? It's an agreement!"

"So?"

"Shut up."

A sigh, and he shot a sharp frown at me. "Fine..." he mutters. "Which one, then?"

"Both?"

"WHAT?"

"You heard me."

"I deserve the extra three thousand now - I agreed to one bloody planet and only money can stop me from taking off as soon as you hit soil. Or sand."

"I'll find another pilot, then."

"Good luck in that. Tatooine is full of shabby places - and Endor doesn't even have any places."

I grumble, disliking this man more and more with each passing second. But he has logic in this, and nothing I can argue - my mother could, yes, possibly, but I unfortunately don't have her politician debate skills.

"Fine. I don't care anymore."

"Good. Fork it over."

I oblige, pulling out a credit chip and entering the amount before tossing it over to him. He catches it easily, slipping it into the pocket of his gray slacks.

"Which one first?"

I glare at him suspiciously for his sudden lack of concern. "You seem very amiable now."

"I always am when I get money."

I snort, finding no difficulty in believing this. "Endor." I reply. Yeah. Maybe it will be fun to visit the place that had, ultimately, ended the struggle for democracy and freed the galaxy from the tyrant clutches of the Empire.

"Crazy little fuzzballs..." I hear Tyl mumble, leaning backwards to comfortably reach his NavaComputer on his left-hand side.

"Like you would know!" I snap at him, defensive, and hoping that he wouldn't embarrass me too much.

"I would."

"Oh?" I ask sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. In truth, his answer surprised me. Not many people I know have visited Endor. My mother, Luke, a good chunk of the former Rebels. Okay, then maybe the whole Rebellion. Tyl simply grunts at me in reply, seemingly absorbed in making hyperspace calculations. A second or so passes, and I speak again with what came out as a clipped tone.

"Care to elaborate?"

Tyl shot a glance at me, as we both seemed to simultaneously realize that it was going to be along ride, we may as well get to know each other.

"I was in the Rebellion for years before the war was won, probably around five months before Yavin and the destruction of the first Death Star."

"Really?" I ask, excited, and Ty gave me an alarmed look as if he hadn't expected so much enthusiasm. "What were you?" Probably a pilot, X-wing, or someone who flew dangerous escorts or fought in major battles -

"A technician."

"What?"

Tyl appeared nonchalant. For some reason, I had had him pegged as someone who didn't sit quietly very easily and had a main role in action.

"What?" he asks, blinking innocently.

"You didn't fight at all?"

"Did I say that? Of course I did, when they were short on pilots against second Death Star."

So this guy was a back-up. A reserve. That was his exciting role. I don't know why I was so disappointed, although. I shrug, and turn my attention back to the view of hyperspace, which I still found fascinating. I could feel his eyes on me, scrutinizing, surveying me out.

And obviously he decided that it's his turn to ask questions. "And what are you doin' here?"

"Erm..." I start. "Well, I'm from Yavin IV, and - "

"Yavin IV?"

"Yes."

"Are you a Jedi?"

I jump. "Why?"

"Well, all I know 's that the new Jedi temple is on that little moon."

"Oh. And yeah. I am. Erm, actually, that's why I'm here. Jedi Right of Passage, you know?"

"Actually no."

"Oh. Well, yeah. Right of Passage. Have to travel by myself for a few weeks."

"I never heard of that."

"You're not a Jedi."

"You're right."

"So yeah."

"Is part of this passage thing requiring that you wear the same clothes the whole time?"

"No."

"Then why the hell didn't you pack more?"

"Because I was in a hurry."

"You just had to hop in and leave?"

Well, yeah. "Sort of. I packed a little, but I had to sell it... all. Because my ship broke down."

"Great ship." he commented, very sarcastically.

"It's old!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe not as old as this hunk of junk..."

"Hey, watch it or you're gonna find yourself floatin' home." Tyl snapped at me. "What kind of ship?"

"And old X-wing. Directly from the Rebellion."

"And you just left it there?"

"I had to get out of Coruscant!"

"WHY?"

"Because!" I argue, for lack of a point.

"Do you have any idea how rare those things are?"

"Yes." I say defiantly.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Why couldn't you stay a bit longer to get together some stuff? I don't want you stinkin' up my ship."

I narrow my eyes at him, but refuse to answer. He takes the hint, and turns back to the controls, although there isn't much to do with them at the moment. Then we both, strangely synchronically, stand, ready to leave. After an odd look that passes between us, we turn to go.

I hear Tyl had quietly express that things are so much easier with a copilot now (which I take as a compliment), and then we split ways. He went to lock himself in his cabin, doing gods know what, and I start to explore more intricately than I had in my first brief self-tour when I stepped onto the freighter. As I enter one of the spare passengers' cabins, I start pressing the different buttons that open the drawers. Most are empty, I realize with disappointment, until I came to the very bottom one. I quickly bend over and start to shuffle through its contents. I decide that it is a very interesting drawer, with several holobooks and vids, a large metal box that rattles and won't open even when I attempt to hotwire it, a string of brown hair (which I quickly discard, who knows how long that's been there), and large quantities of dust. I quickly flip through the datapads, looking for something interesting that I could read or watch on the way to the forest moon.

Good gods, this man can very well be lying to me about being in the Rebellion - although, for some reason, I don't doubt him - considering his choice of reading material. Some I set down quickly back into their place in the drawer (like Advanced Repair for the YT-1300 and The Layout of a Typical Hyperdrive: Volume III), but others quickly catch my attention. He had some holobooks on the Rebellion that not even Luke had in his new Jedi's archive. So I took the three that looked the most interesting - Inner Workings of the Rebel Alliance, Darth Vader and the Connections Between His Past, the Empire, and the Rebellion, and Palpatine's Undetected Ascent to Power - and take them to a barren bunk at the other end of the room, and start reading Darth Vader. It's so immersing that I read for a few hours without realizing so much time had passed, and eventually I feel Tyl leaning against the doorframe, studying me.

"What're you doing?" He asks in his gruff, deep tone.

"Reading." I say automatically, not taking my eyes off the datapad.

"You make it a point to go through the Captain's stuff on every trip?"

Not really, this was my first real trip away from my mother and uncle. But I still answer "yes" while finally looking up quickly to meet his eyes calmly.

I study his eyes, and they are an amazing ecru color. He stares straight back, and I notice a light change in his expression, to one of gentle confusion until that was covered smoothly. "Food's ready." he says, finally.

"What is it?" I ask, setting the pad aside and standing, while jerking on my sleeves that had rode up to almost past my elbows.

"Why does it matter?" he mumbles, turning. "You're eating it anyways."

I scowl at him, pushing roughly past him as I make my way to where I remember the kitchen is. I smell something exotic and lingering, and I eagerly start going through the cabinets in search of bowls. I feel a warmth behind me, and look up to see Tyl reaching far above my head and grabbing two metal dishes, then his hand wandering into a drawer and emerging with a utensil that looked like a spoon and a fork combined.

"Why are your plates up so high?" I ask, setting them on the table.

"Because I'm not short."

"I'm not short!" I protest. Definitely not. Okay, so maybe Olos was eight inches taller, but that didn't make me short. It makes him abnormally tall. He just snorts at me, picking op the pot and pouring what looked like soup into each bowl, and I sit.

"What is this? It smells good." I comment, picking up my spork as he joins me.

"Alderaanian stew." he replies easily, dipping his spoon and taking a mouthful as I stared. The only people that knew how to make this was the few Alderaanians left in the galaxy. And this man is not of Alderaan, I knew that right away.

"How do you know how to make it?" I ask, amazed.

"Stole the recipe off of an Alderaanian."

"What? Why?"

"Because. It smelled good."

I huff, and I could feel myself starting to get mad again. He stole a rare recipe from its rightful owner. How low. I saw that he noticed my annoyance, and my refusal to touch the savoring, tempting stew.

"I'm just kidding." he says, and I look up, surprised to see a smile that had slipped up the side of his face. "I was taught."

I look at him, studying, and sensed the truth, and permitted myself to take a large bite. Gods, it was delicious. It tastes just like my mother's back home, except with a few spices that were added that gives it a more contemporary yet bizarre taste. The meat is so tender, and the sauce slides down my throat so easily, it's all I can do to keep myself from moaning in my pleasure.

"You like it?"

"It's delicious." I compliment, smiling at him lightly.

Maybe Tyl isn't so bad after all.